The Chaperone
by Prairie Blossom
Summary: So what if his "grandmother" was going to fight him tooth-and-nail every step of the way? Saskatchewan was determined to get his parents to kiss by the end of the night! Canada X Ukraine. Provinces designed by ctcsherry. iammatthewian universe.
1. Chapter 1

**_AN_: ****Well hi! This is a little idea that's been floating around in my brain for a few months now, ever since I found out that I used to live a few hours away from the town this story takes place in. (No, this couldn't take place just anywhere, and you'll see why very soon.) I'm borrowing the personifications of Canada's provinces and territories from the iammatthewian project for this. If you aren't very familiar with the project, I highly recommend that you pause for a moment, go to YouTube, look up 'iammathewian' (one "T" this time), watch the awesome videos, and then [very important!] come back and read my fic.**

**I also want to give a shoutout to my friend and Beta, the astounding and marvelous Pink-Kitty-Kela from DeviantArt, for pestering me enough to finally post something. You rock!**

**And by the way, I don't own Hetalia (© Himaruya Hidekaz), the provinces and territories (© ctcsherry) or the iammatthewian project (© r3ginasimon). **

* * *

><p><strong>The Chaperone<strong>

**Prairie Blossom**

* * *

><p><em>February 13, 10:47 PM<em>

_Tomorrow is the day. I have been waiting for tomorrow for as long as I can remember. It feels so surreal to finally wrap my mind around the concept of "tomorrow": every time I'd tried to execute this plan in the past there had always been something preventing my success. To actually be on the eve of the accumulation of all my hard work: I'm practically trembling with anticipation, even as I write these words. Honestly, there were days when I thought this entire scheme was going to be impossible, that I should just give up while I was ahead. But this year, all of the pieces fell into place, right into my waiting hands. _

_Yes, all of the preparations are already made. I had to hire almost everyone in town, and I'm sure more than half of them are suspicious of either where I got all of this money or why I'm so invested in this project, particularly the folks at the post office. It sure cost me a pretty penny to make it worthwhile for them, especially considering how busy it is down there at this time of year. Still, they all agreed, and I can easily smooth over the rough edges of my plan so long as everything works out tomorrow._

_Tomorrow. Just twelve hours, thirteen minutes left, and then __she__ will finally be here. _

_It will be perfect. I'll make sure of that._

_-SK_

The tall, lanky young man closed the spiral notebook he was writing in and slid it under his mattress. He set the ballpoint pen on his bedside table and switched off the lamp standing beside it. Sighing in the dark, he then grabbed two fistfuls of the cotton blanket lying over him, pulled it up to his chin, and closing his eyes. Still, sleep would not come easily to him tonight. His thoughts wandered to the day ahead of him at irregular intervals, resulting with bursts and fits of chuckles, his thin body shaking as he laughed.

After all, no one could possibly stop him now.

Or so he thought.

* * *

><p>When Ukraine stepped out of the car she had rented back in Saskatoon, she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow to the town that she had been invited to, if it qualified to even be called that. There couldn't possibly be more than a hundred houses in the entire village, most of which looked vacant. In fact, she could count all the businesses in town with one hand. Still, if the heart-shaped sign she stared at from across the street was accurate, then she definitely had the right address.<p>

Her left hand reached into its corresponding coat pocket and pulled out a twice-folded piece of paper. She glanced left and right before opening it, a nervous habit she had picked up over the last few months. Her two siblings did not know of her exchange of letters with the Canadian personification, and though she was fairly certain that her younger sister would not care, she was wary of what her little brother would try to do to her… friend. Yes, that was what they were: friends. Just friends, right?

She wanted to say "yes," but that did not explain why Canada had asked her to meet him in a place called "Love, Saskatchewan" on February fourteenth.

_Anyway, I was wondering: what are you doing on the fourteenth of next month? If you are free, would you like to come out to visit? There's a little town called "Love, Saskatchewan" (I know, it's an awkward name) that has some really great scenery nearby. I'll bring out my snowmobile and we could take a tour of the area before going back to one of my province's houses for dinner. And don't worry, you're not putting Saskatchewan out at all; he said he would be more than happy to have us._

The Slavic woman blinked down at the neat handwriting on the letter, pursing her lips. Did Canada celebrate Saint Valentine's Day? Did Canada not know that _she_ did? She could only vaguely grasp the implications of either possibility, which both left her mind reeling and her stomach in knots.

"Ukraine?"

She gasped and spun around on her heel, eyes wide open and the letter pressed firmly against her breast. "C-Canada! You scared me."

The northernmost American Nation laughed lightly, and Ukraine found that she couldn't resist smiling along with him. "Yeah, sorry about that. How was your trip?"

"It went well, thank you," she answered, stuffing the note back into her coat pocket and pulling the button through. "So, this is Love?"

Canada's gaze shifted to his feet. "W-well, that's what the sign says, anyway."

"And you said that your province lives here?"

"Yeah, on his farm."

Ukraine gnawed on her lip. _He won't look at me,_ she thought. _Why won't he look at me? What could that mean?_ "Canada?"

"Eh?" his head snapped up.

Ukraine noted the rosy tint to his face. _Is he embarrassed to be seen with me? Or is he blushing because he—NO! I won't get my hopes up. It's— it's just the cold. Yes, it's the cold. That's why his face is so red. _"Are you ready to go, now?"

"Ah, right." An uneasy smile made its way back onto Canada's face. "I'm ready if you are. Saskatchewan said that he was busy until this evening, so we have until then all to ourselves. Do you have anything you need me to put in my truck?"

"Yes," Ukraine replied, desperately trying to convince herself that he was only offering out of common courtesy. "There's a backpack in the passenger's seat."

"I'll get it," Canada offered. "You can go ahead and get in."

_He's just doing this because it's the right thing to do. I'd do the same if I invited him to my house._ "Sure. Thank you."

Shuffling her feet in the snow, Ukraine made her way to the far side of the vehicle while watching Canada over her shoulder as he took her pack. "Oh, toss me the keys, would you? I'll lock it up," he offered.

"O-okay." Biting off her right mitten, Ukraine quickly dug through her pockets, remembering to avoid the one containing the letter, until she found what she was looking for. She tossed the key ring to her companion, which he caught with a slight fumble, and climbed into his car. Then she waited, idly playing with her worn fingernails until Canada returned, giving her back the keys and laying her bag on the floor against the back seat. "Alright, is that everything?"

"I think so. You are sure that my car is fine parked right there?" Ukraine asked.

"Positive. Don't worry about a thing." Canada shifted into reverse and turned in his seat to look back over his shoulder. A turn of the wheel, a growl of the engine, and a puff of moist exhaust fumes, and the truck pulled out of the tiny lot and began heading north and out of town, leaving behind only an echo and a fresh set of tire tracks on the snow.

* * *

><p>Only a minute of stillness later, a lone figure stepped out of the shadows from behind the building.<p>

"I can't believe it. I just can't believe it," he said to no one in particular, but smiling like a madman all the same. "It's starting! It's finally starting!" He punched his fist into the frigid air and leapt in excitement, completely ignorant of the strange looks he was getting from the townspeople walking up and down the street. "That should be enough of a head start," he declared, turning to his own dingy-brown truck. "Time to go—"

But before he could finish that thought, another car pulled into the parking lot, grinding to a halt only a few metres away from the young man. Two voices could be heard from within, one mid-ranged and relaxed, the other shrill and fast. The passenger's door opened wide and two small boots hit the ground. "Where is she?" the shrill voice demanded.

The young man raised a thick blond eyebrow. "Prince Edward Island?"

The car door slammed shut, and in its place stood a short, freckled, red-headed girl with her hair in two tight braids. Her expression radiated with indignant fury, and her sights instantly locked on the young man twice her height. She marched straight toward him, her boots crunching in the packed snow almost with each step until the point of her nose was barely a hand's width away from his chest. "Yea, now where is she?"

He leaned back away from her, trying to recover some of his invaded personal space. "W-what are you doing here? How'd you—"

"Euy brought 'er, in case ye were wondrin'." The driver stepped out of the car. The family resemblance between him and the girl was obvious: red hair, freckles, distinct facial structure.

The blond bit back a chuckle. "Nova Scotia. Of course, I should have guessed."

"Well, Saska—Sasko—Sak—Si—_you_," Prince Edward Island growled out, much to her companion's amusement, "I'll have you know that I was sitting comfortably warm at home just last night, when all of a sudden, I get a call from my little boy's boss asking if I knew when he and Miss Ukraine were going to be done with their rendezvous! _Rendezvous_! You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, now?"

The young man narrowed his azure eyes. "First of all, it's _Saskatchewan_. Four little syllables. Second, since when is it any of your business who Canada becomes romantically involved with?"

"Since _always_!" she wailed. "I'm his _mommy_! It's my _job_ to stop him from making stupid decisions like this!"

Saskatchewan sighed. "Hey, Joel," he called Nova Scotia over the short girl's head. "Just wondering, how much did she have to promise you to have you put up with her today?"

"Forty pints and an all-ye-can-eat lobster dinn'r," Nova Scotia snickered from his seat on the hood of his car. "O'course, Euy used seven o'those pints with m'breakfast, an' Euy'll let Bonnie 'ave one if sh' wants te."

"Focus!" Prince Edward Island snapped at her brother before whirling back to the prairie province. "I don't approve of that girl he's with, you know. She'll be a terrible influence, mark my words!"

"Oh really, now? And why is that?" Saskatchewan grit out from behind clenched teeth.

"Call it a mother's intuition," she huffed. "You remember my Matty's birthday a few years ago? Do you remember how she dressed in lingerie and burst out of his oversized birthday cake like a bad Los Vegas showgirl?"

Saskatchewan fought back a shudder at the memory. "You know that America tricked her into that."

"She still agreed to do it," she asserted, wrinkling her nose with her scowl. "That woman has no morals. She'd leech off of any man that would give her a second look. And my little Matty is falling for her pathetic act! That scandalous little..."

Saskatchewan's hand grasped Prince Edward Island's shoulder. "That's my _mother_ you are talking about," he warned.

Rather than shy away from the implied threat, Prince Edward Island narrowed her eyes and faced the larger man with a ferocity that would have made even General Winter cringe in apprehension. "Your _mommy_," she spat, "is an inane seducing bloodsucker who uses her outrageous sex appeal to wrap my poor boy around her little finger!"

In the background, Nova Scotia whistled.

The grip on the girl's shoulder tightened significantly and began shaking with barely-restrained rage. "You are _so_ lucky you are a short little girl, right now."

"Aw," Prince Edward Island cooed, batting her eyelashes mockingly. "Am I fortunate that you take after daddy and not mommy?"

"Don't _provoke_ me into following my uncle's example," he snarled. If someone else was watching closely from the right angle, he or she would have sworn the blond's eyes flashed dark violet for a split-second.

Before the redheaded girl could hurl another insult at him, Nova Scotia intervened, hollering out, "Anne, Euy think 'es had 'enuff, now." When Prince Edward Island turned to face him with an annoyed glare darkened by a hint of malice behind it, he sighed. "Think 'bout it, Anne. The long'r we stay 'ere, the farth'r we 'ave to catch up wit' Matt an' Ukraine. Now, what's the _smart_ thing te do?"

Prince Edward Island glanced from her brother, to Saskatchewan, to the road out of town before she groaned. "Fine. We can continue _this_ later," the sides of her lips pulled tight into a smirk, "after Sissy and Newfoundland get here to help us out."

Saskatchewan's eyes widened. "You're bluffing." But he knew she wasn't.

"Keep believing that if you want," the girl chimed as she turned on her heel, breaking out of the tall young man's grip, and skipped back to her car, snow crunching under her feet with every step. "C'mon, brother."

Nova Scotia hummed as he dug his keys back out of his pocket before turning to Saskatchewan with a pitying half-smile. "Euh, just so y'know, Euy'd norm'lly be on the side o' true love m'self. It's just tha' Anne's my lil' sister, an' a family sticks togeth'r, no matt'r what."

"_Now_, Joel!" the girl shouted, scooting into the vehicle and slamming the door closed behind her. With a shrug, the older brother followed suit, buckling in and turning the car on. Saskatchewan could only watch with his mouth slightly agape as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, leaving town just as Canada and Ukraine did only a few minutes earlier.

When the purr of Nova Scotia's car finally faded away, Saskatchewan slumped, sighed, and began to trudge back to his own car. He had been so sure—_so sure!_—that he had tied up any loose ends. His parents were _literally_ in Love! On Valentine's Day! He had worked on his farm until the calluses on his hands bled, motivated only by the promise that on this day he could make everything worthwhile.

But even as he sat behind the wheel of his truck, mechanically strapping himself in as if nothing unexpected happened at all, he knew that Prince Edward Island's appearance was definitely a problem. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, the girl had found a flaw in his "perfect" plan.

Granted, Saskatchewan knew that he could hold her off long enough if she were alone. But if what she said was true, and both her brothers and sister would help her in her mission, the odds tilted in their favour. As long as they were united, the maritime province family could outman, outrun, and —maybe, depending mainly on Nova Scotia's rate of alcohol consumption— outsmart him.

"_...an' a family sticks togeth'r, no matt'r what."_

His hand stopped short over the keys in the ignition, hovering a second before he reached across the dashboard and snatched his cell phone out of the glove compartment.

"So, you want to bring your family into this, eh, Anne?" Saskatchewan muttered, opening his contacts list with an expanding grin. "Well, I've got a family of my own."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_**AN**_**: Back for more? Yes I am! **

**Honestly, I originally planned to have more of Canada and Ukraine in this chapter, but as I wrote it I just realized that just wasn't going to happen like that. Next chapter will have more of them for sure. In the meantime, have some more provinces!**

**Once again, thanks go to Pink-Kitty-Kela for helping to make this so pretty-looking!~**

**A disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters you'll see below. Other awesome people already have dibs on them.**

* * *

><p>The long ride north was largely a quiet one. Neither Canada nor Ukraine had very much to say, so whenever one of them tried to strike up a conversation, they would both exchange a few cordial words, but would eventually return to sitting in silence. Canada wondered if he should put on some music to help ease the tension, but he quickly dismissed the thought, slightly embarrassed of what Ukraine might think of his playlist. He supposed he had America to thank for that little insecurity.<p>

Instead, they both kept their eyes on the road in front of them, watching as the flat prairies Saskatchewan was best known for warped into gently sloping hills covered in peaceful mixed forests. The once sparsely-covered landscape slowly teemed with wild birch and fir trees which towered over Canada's little red truck. Soon, the very road on which they were driving changed shape, too, no longer stretching straight ahead but weaving left and right around the growing tracts of land.

This train of thought, unfortunately, only led Canada back to the woman next to him. To say the least, he was surprised to learn that his long-time pen pal wanted to spend Valentine's Day with him. The edges of his mouth twitched up at the memory; he was sitting on his couch in his Ottawa home, torn between reading the neat cursive handwritten letter and watching Nunavut and Newfoundland play with Kumajiro and Labrador on the floor.

Just as he finished, Saskatchewan walked into the room and asked what he was reading. Canada offered his province a brief summary of the note, mentioning Ukraine's mounting concerns for her brother's well-being, her suggestion of a new book that she thought Canada would appreciate, and her suddenly expressed desire to visit, _perhaps sometime in February? I think I'm open on the fourteenth._ Upon hearing this, the prairie province was quick to suggest that both of them come to his farm for dinner, maybe after taking a snowmobile trip at a nearby lake.

In all honesty, Canada was considering saying "no" to the offer altogether since the words "date" and "Valentine" wouldn't stop buzzing in his head, but the hopeful expression on the province's face persuaded him otherwise. He agreed with some reluctance, much to the delight of the young man.

Naturally, this was all before he remembered the name of the town Saskatchewan lived in.

"So Canada," Ukraine said, turning her curious eyes on him. "Do you visit Saskatchewan very often?"

"Um," Canada furrowed his brows a little and ran a hand through his ochre hair. "Not really. I'm a little sad to admit it, but most of the time I'm too busy keeping some of my, er, _louder_ provinces in line."

She looked at him for a few seconds more before her sight fell away. "That's a shame."

"Y-yeah." Canada considered just letting the conversation end with that, but a nagging feeling in the back of his mind urged him not to stop on such a negative note. "He's rather fond of you."

Ukraine perked up. "Really?"

Canada nodded. "He's the one that suggested that we come to his house in the first place. I think he's missed you."

"Oh?" she smiled. "Well, that's good. I was still worried that I'd be imposing on him."

"Not at all," the North American nation shook his head just slightly, still keeping his gaze on the road. "Just the opposite, actually. He'd probably be disappointed if you didn't come."

"Hmm," Ukraine hummed. The longest dialogue the two had exchanged since the trip began died right there, just as the truck passed a little sign reading "Welcome to Narrow Hills Provincial Park."

* * *

><p>"Can't you drive any faster?" Prince Edward Island whined, tapping her finger anxiously on the window pane. "It's not like a straight road is especially hard to drive on."<p>

"Ah, but that-be where yer wrong, lassie," Nova Scotia replied, clicking his tongue. He paused for a few seconds as the car ran over a small pothole with a thump, but he firmly kept the odometer ten kilometres below the limit. "A strai't road is the hard'st of all drivin' chall'nges. Ye see, wh'n yer only driv'n in a leuyne, ye got no exkuses, an' no place te heuyde euyther. Ev'ryone can see if ye'r swervin' in the road, or if ye go ov'r the seuydes, or if ye break th' speed max. The p'leece wud catch ye in an inst'nt. An' le'me tell ye, Euy won't pass th' breathaleuyz'r test, tha's fo' sure."

"Police? Breathalyser?" she sputtered. "We are in the middle of _nowhere_ during the coldest month of the winter! No one else is here!"

"Ah, but Canada's 'ere, and Missy Ukraine's 'ere, an' we jus' saw Sasky-chewy a few min'tes ago. Tha' makes three."

"Fine, fine, whatever," Prince Edward Island snapped, rubbing her temple to help alleviate the migraine she was _sure_ was coming. "How much longer until we catch up to them?"

"Euh, well th'park's comin' up in aboot twen'y minutes or so, a' this rate," Nova Scotia supposed. "Euy figure tha' they prob'ly jus' got ther' themselfs."

"Good," she hummed. "I'll promptly grab my Matty by his jacket, tell that disgraceful girl off, and we'll go home just like..."

"No ye won't."

Prince Edward Island jolted at her brother's sudden interruption. "Excuse me? I won't?"

Nova Scotia shook his head. "'S a bad euydea."

The girl blinked once, and then crossed her arms, waiting. "Okay, I'm listening."

Nova Scotia sighed, adjusting his hands on the steering wheel. "Ev'a heard o' 'ye want wha' ye can't 'ave?'"

"You want what you can't have," Prince Edward Island echoed, getting a sneaking suspicion that she knew where her brother was going with this. "Yea."

"If ye ootright fa'bid Matt from seein' th' lady, wha's tha' gonna do te 'im? Wha's he gonna think aboot on th' ride home, or ov'r supper, or t'night as he's fallin' asleep?"

Prince Edward Island chewed at her lip. "Her?"

A nod. "S'right. Tha's not wha' ye want, is it, lassie? 'Cause if he thinks aboot Ukraine ev'n a lil', soon he'll be thinkin' aboot 'er a lot, an' he'll feuynd a way te see 'er agaien, wit' or wit'oot yer approv'l."

"Well, what am I supposed to do, then?" she whined, pounding her fist on the dashboard. "Do I just wait patiently and _hope_ that nothing happens between them?"

Nova Scotia hummed a disagreeing note, but waited to reply until he gently guided the car around a wide curve in the road. "Naw, they already leuyke each oth'r enuff. If ye leave 'em, event-chelly, somethin's gunna happ'n. But, Euy have a plan, an' it's sittin' und'r yer seat reuyt now."

"Oh?" With a groan of the leather seat covers, Prince Edward Island twisted around to grab a cardboard shoebox from below her chair. With a questioning glance to her brother, who still kept his eyes securely on the road, she flipped the lid off and frowned down at the items inside. "Stink bombs? Whoopee cushions? Fake spiders? Do you expect us to _prank_ them away from each other?"

The man grinned a wide, crooked smile. "Tha'd be th'fun way te do it."

Prince Edward Island sighed, closing the container and set it down on her lap. "We'll think of something better soon, I'm sure." _But I'm keeping these, just in case._

Nova Scotia pouted. "So tha's a 'no?'"

"It's more of a 'let's consider this some more,'" she answered with a huff, turning her neck and resting her forehead on the frosty glass of the window.

"Hmm." The car grew quiet (and notably slower) as Nova Scotia passed over a bridge above a small frozen creek, but soon after they reached the other side the older brother asked, "Whyd'ja wanna do th's in th' firs' playse?"

"Because my boy deserves the best, not her," Prince Edward Island mumbled, not bothering to look back at him.

"Seri'sly, Anne," Nova Scotia pressed, "Wha's all th's aboot?"

The girl didn't immediately answer, but she instead took a deep breath of air, made significantly cooler by the small proximity to the frigid glass and the icy world outside. "He doesn't understand that this woman is more trouble than she's worth," she eventually replied.

The older maritime province raised a single reddish-brown eyebrow at his sister's assertion. "Ye think? Sh'seems leuyke a very neuyce lady te me."

"'Nice' can be faked," she frowned. "But Matty is completely naive to that notion. She has every reason to take advantage of him, doubly so considering who her family is. But he's so heart-struck for the girl and egged on by the farm boy to pursue her that he'll probably not know what's happened by the time she calls it off."

"An' ye'd rath'r put this te rest t'day so he won' make any m'stakes wit'oot knowin' th' con-see-kwen-ses."

A small nod. "Exactly. That's what a mother is for."

"Euy see." Just then, a thought occurred, and the edges of Nova Scotia's mouth twitched, then spread into a toothy smirk. "So, there's somthin' tha's always been on m'meuynd."

"Mm?" Prince Edward Island blinked, turning to look at her brother.

Nova Scotia's grin widened and he shot a quick, mischievous glance to his sister. "If you're Matty's mum, who's yer baby-daddy?"

The car fell quiet as Prince Edward Island processed the question. And when she did, her face turned redder and redder until it rivalled only her carrot-toned braids. "_Drive_!"

It took seven agonizingly long minutes for Nova Scotia to finally stop laughing.

* * *

><p>Having lived in the area for many years, not to mention being the personification of the province himself, Saskatchewan knew that the fastest way to the Narrow Hills was not north, but <em>south<em>, since the route traversed two larger highways rather than smaller country roads. Sure, it was a roundabout way of getting there, and the time saved may have seemed trivial to the common weekend vacationer, but it did allow Saskatchewan to arrive at the park before Canada and Ukraine and, more importantly, Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia. He effortlessly used this to his advantage, waiting a few minutes before slipping out of his car to follow quietly after the two Nations, covering their first tracks to buy more time, watching them from a safe distance until he heard two sets of footsteps crunching in the snow behind him.

"Dude, Sask, my main man!" came a familiar shout. Saskatchewan turned around to see his two brothers, Alberta and Manitoba, jogging to meet him. Alberta grinned wide holding his fist out to his twin as he slowed to a stop. "What's going on?"

Smiling back, Saskatchewan met Alberta's hand with his own in a greeting fist bump. "Hey, thanks for making it out here on such short notice."

Manitoba rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we're only missing a day of pink balloons and flowers and '_romance_,'" he replied, sticking his tongue out for extra emphasis on his utter distain. "So you didn't say over the phone; what'cha want?"

"Romance," Saskatchewan answered, smirking as a blend of horror and revulsion blossomed on Manitoba's face.

"I'm outta here," the oldest brother turned and tried to escape, but a fast arm, practiced from cattle drives and rodeos, lashed out and grabbed a tight hold on the folds of Manitoba's scarf before he was out of reach.

"Go on," Alberta insisted to his twin, entirely ignoring the choking sounds coming from beside him.

"It's not about me, actually." Saskatchewan pointed down to the snowmobile tracks they stood on. "I'm following Dad and Ukraine. I set them up on a date with each other, but Prince Edward Island recruited her family to help her break them up."

Two golden eyebrows shot up at the mention of the Slavic woman, and Alberta released his brother, who fell to his knees as he gasped for air. "Ukraine? As in _the_ Ukraine?"

Saskatchewan tilted his head. "What other Ukraines are there?"

"No, as in," Alberta made a vague gesture over his chest, "_The Ukraine_. You know...?"

Suddenly realizing what his twin meant, Saskatchewan's jaw hung open in disgust. "Ralph," he sputtered, "She's like my mother!"

"Yeah, but she's a double-G cup! Double-G!"

Saskatchewan opened his mouth to retort, but quickly thought better of it. "You know, I don't even care as long as you can help me hold PEI off for a while. Can you stick around today? Just so I can make sure she doesn't get in their way?"

Alberta shrugged. "That shouldn't be so bad, right?" A silence fell among the Prairie Provinces as the twins looked to their older brother, who scowled as he sat on the snow. Taking a cue, Alberta nudged Manitoba's side a _little_ too hard with his boot, causing the brown-haired to grunt from the impact. "_Right_?"

"Hmph, whatever."

"Great, thanks." Saskatchewan offered Manitoba a hand, but it was swatted away as the older brother stood up on his own, brushing the snow off of his coat and fixing his scarf. "Where are the girls?" he asked instead.

"Running late," Alberta answered as they started walking down the path again. "They'll be here soon, though."

"Good."

"So, you want to tell us the story?" Saskatchewan turned to meet Manitoba's questioning glare. "How'd you set Dad and Ukraine up, anyway?"

"It wasn't easy, or cheap. You know that they've been writing each other letters ever since Ukraine left Russia's house, right?" The two other provinces nodded, remembering the times Canada's face brightened considerably as he shuffled through his mail, taking just one single envelope and curling up on his couch to read the paper inside. "Just after they started, I took a job at the post office headquarters. That gave me access to their records, so I was able to redirect all of Dad's incoming and outgoing mail through the branch office in Love."

The ends of Alberta's lips turned up. "Oh, you're good."

Saskatchewan nodded. "From there, I got a job transfer back home and made sure to send all of it through without getting postmarked. Except, of course, for their letters. I took those home with me."

"Why weren't you caught?" Manitoba interjected.

"Eventually I was, but I was also such a well-established member of the community, plus my farm is one of the biggest north of Saskatoon. Having some stock in the potash mines never hurt either. Long story short, I bribed the town to keep quiet and even help me set this whole thing up."

"And after you had the letters?" the elder brother asked.

"A few years of practice later, I figured out how to perfectly mimic both of their styles of writing, right down to the angles they tend to use as they sign their names."

"Wait," Alberta interrupted with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You can forge Dad's signature?"

Saskatchewan glared. "I know what you're thinking about, so forget it." Alberta's face fell.

"So, you've been rewriting their letters, then," Manitoba asked, crossing his arms. "Won't they figure out that something's off when they—you know— _talk_ in real life?

"I kept most of the words the same; the first time I changed anything was a month ago," the blond replied, shaking his head. "I rewrote their letters so they both thought that the other one wanted to meet up today. As long as they don't read each other's letters, they'll never know."

"Sounds like you've thought of everything," Alberta said. "I'm impressed."

Saskatchewan let out a chuckle. "You don't know the half of it, yet."

* * *

><p>"AHH!" Prince Edward Island shrieked, kicking the tire of the dingy truck as hard as her movement-restricting snow pants would allow. "Joel Mackenzie, you are a useless idiot!"<p>

"Aw, Anne," the newly dubbed 'useless idiot' moaned, though his expression did look rather remorseful for letting his sister down. "Name callin'? Tha's jus' mean."

"How is this truck here?" she continued, unwilling to listen to his complaints. "How, I ask? Well I'll tell you. You refused to go the speed limit, that's why. Somehow, Saki—Sach—So—_the prairie boy_ took the long way around and _still _beat us!"

"He prob'ly jus' knows th'area bett'r, Anne," Nova Scotia defended.

"That _and_ you're a hopeless excuse of a province!" Prince Edward Island trudged back over to her brother's car and threw the passenger door wide open in her rage. A few moments later, she came back out, holding a pink, floppy rubber object in her mitten, and shoved it into her brother's hands. "Blow it up!" she commanded as she pulled a hairpin out of the top of her right braid and began to pick the lock of Saskatchewan's truck.

Nova Scotia stared down at the small whoopee cushion for a moment before bringing it to his lips, pinching the corners as he inflated the chamber until it was sufficiently filled. "So yer glad Euy brawt th' stuff aft'r all?" A smirk.

"Shut it!" she snapped just as the lock on the inside of the truck door popped open. The girl held out her hand and waited a moment before her brother put the balloon in her hand. She scrambled into the vehicle and shoved the prank balloon slightly between the two cushions of the chair, covering it up with the neatly folded blanket resting on the passenger seat. "There!" she puffed, sliding back down to the icy ground and slamming the door shut again.

Nova Scotia hummed a note in contemplation. "Wha' eksactly did tha' accompl'sh?"

"It made me feel better," Prince Edward Island spat, allowing her tight facial muscles to relax somewhat and her heartbeat to decelerate to a healthier pace. "Yea, now I feel _much_ better."

"Feel better about what?" a soft voice behind the two asked.

They whirled around and were met by the beautiful young woman who personified New Brunswick, cuing two simultaneous cries of "Sissy!" and "Bonnie!" Both ran to embrace her, Prince Edward Island throwing her arms around the woman's middle and Nova Scotia offering her a one-armed shoulder hug and a small kiss on her cheek.

"Thank you so much for coming on such short notice," Prince Edward Island chimed, looking up to the sweet face of her sister-in-law.

New Brunswick laughed lightly, an angelic sound to the two redheads who only had each other's company for the past several hours. "It wasn't any trouble at all."

"I hope that it's okay that I'm here, though," a new small voice piped in. Perking up, Prince Edward Island released her embrace on her sister and weaved around her to see two toddlers, a boy and a girl, that trailed her a few steps away.

The girl, a chocolate-haired Inuit in a thick caribou parka who personified the territory of Nunavut, continued talking: "Newfoundle and I were playing at Missus New Brunswick's house when you called her, so I came, too."

Prince Edward Island's two ginger eyebrows ruffled in thought. "You'll have to either do exactly what I tell you or stay quiet and out of our way, but if you can do that, we can put up with you."

The two children exchanged delighted, beaming expressions.

"So, I have a map," New Brunswick stated, reaching into her coat pocket and withdrawing a brochure, opening it so that her husband and his sister could see it properly. "If we don't know exactly which way Canada or Sast—Saus—Se—_this province_ went..."

Nova Scotia snickered. "Seri'sly, c'n _any_ o'us say 'es nayme reuyt?"

"...then let's take this trail along the ridge," she traced a gloved finger along a dotted line on the chart that ran from the main parking lot to a picture of a building not too far away, "and go to this lodge here. It says we can see the whole park from there, including all of the snowmobiling trails."

"That's perfect!" Prince Edward Island exclaimed. "Let's go, then!"

* * *

><p>"What's that?"<p>

Saskatchewan followed Alberta's pointing finger to a group of moving dots on the ridge across the ravine. Shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand over his brow, the middle province squinted to try and get a better look. From his distance, he could just barely distinguish a few different colours: yellows, browns, blues, and most telling of all...

"Red," Saskatchewan growled. "It's PEI."

"You serious?" Alberta glanced at his twin as he took a few steps forward in scrutiny. "Wow, look at them. Seems like they're going to the lodge first. If we don't hurry, they're going to spot Dad and Ukraine before we do."

Manitoba tilted his head. "Why are there five of them? They didn't bring _Labrador_ all the way out here, did they?"

"I doubt it," the cowboy replied. "PEI probably thought having a dog would be a liabili—wait, is that _Nunavut_?"

It was, as they could tell as the brothers' eyes became increasingly accustomed to looking into the distance. Manitoba crossed his arms and looked to the farm boy, scowling somewhat darker than usual. "I don't get it. I thought the girls were supposed to bring her along."

Saskatchewan's gaze rose up to the cerulean expansive sky, lined with feathery wisps of cirrus clouds. "Yukon, Northwest," he murmured, still staring at the mesmerizing view, "Where are you?"

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN**_**: It's been a while, I know, but I'm got giving up on this fic. In fact, I've pretty much decided how it's going to play out from here, with one or two little exceptions that I'm still deliberating with myself on.**

**Also, Pink-Kitty-Kela (my beta) wants me to tell you to punch her for taking so long to edit. But I'm telling you to go easy on her. A lot of things "came down" this week where she lives. (Isn't that right, _mon amie_?) Plus, she's doing a great job, isn't she?~**

**And finally, I still only own a couple of Hetalia trinkets and media-stuffs. No copyrights to the show/comic itself. Just fanfics.**

* * *

><p><em>BANG!<em>

The sound of two heavy wooden doors slamming hard against the walls echoed throughout the lodge and a gust of frigid air flooded into even the farthest corners of the room. All sets of eyes inside turned to look at the newcomer: a short ginger-haired young woman with scathing eyes that cued a shudder through any mortal soul that dared to challenge them. She moved swiftly and purposely to the front desk, four companions not far behind her.

"Excuse me," she hissed at the poor park ranger on duty, who recoiled at the icy tone of her voice, "but could you please provide us with some binoculars?"

The ranger gulped, a sound easily picked up through the entire room. "W—well, we don—don't have any—y to rent—" the stammer was cut short by a vicious growl. "—But here, take mine!" he finished hastily as he grabbed a small black leather bag off of his belt and shoved it into the threatening newcomer's arms.

With a last long wary look, she lowered her head and motioned her entourage to follow her outside back into the snow, which they did obediently. "Joel, you're the tallest," she said after the door shut behind them. She pushed the binoculars to his chest. "Take a look through these and find my Matty."

Nova Scotia pouted, though he opened the leather bag anyway. "Ye know, ye cood say 'pleese,'" he complained quietly as he looked through the lenses. After a few moments of silence searching, his scanning back and forth paused as he gazed into the basin. "Euy think Euy see 'em. Bonnie, where's yer map?" New Brunswick unfolded the paper in her mittens and held it open for her husband to look from it to the valley and back again. "They're on th' trayl te Littl' Pe'rl Layke. Euy'd give 'em aboot feuyve minutes te get there."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Prince Edward Island dashed ahead of the others, racing back down the hill in the direction she came from, followed by the crunching of four pairs of boots struggling to keep up with her.

Unbeknownst to the island province and her small assembly, a pair of hooded figures sitting on a bench exchanged knowing looks as soon as the ridge was quiet again. They rose without a word and began to make their own way down the path, keeping their prey always out of earshot but never out of sight. The shorter of the two opened a cell phone and, casting a knowing look to the companion a few steps ahead, and hit a number in her speed dial. Her call was answered on the second ring.

"_Saskatchewan speaking."_

"Bro, it's me, Yukon. We know where Dad and your mom are."

* * *

><p>Saskatchewan froze in mid step. "Are you serious?"<p>

"_Yeah,"_ Yukon's voiced buzzed through the earpiece, and the blond's spirits soared in relief. _"Northwest and I held a stake-out at the lodge on top of the ridge to catch PEI. We heard her say that they're on a trail that leads to Little Pearl Lake."_

"Little Pearl Lake, got it." He glanced over to his brothers, who nodded in understanding. "What about you, what are you doing?"

"_We'll stay a few steps behind PEI and keep you updated on where she's going at regular intervals."_

"Okay, thanks. Talk to you soon." Saskatchewan ended the call. "That was Yukon. She'll buy us some time."

The good news brought a confident smirk to Alberta's face. "We can beat them easily."

"Just a second, though. One more thing." Without an explanation, Saskatchewan bit off a glove and started pounding a sequence of numbers into the phone's buttons.

Manitoba glowered, tapping a mitted finger on his wrist. "This is ridiculous. Are we going or not?"

"Just making some last minute arrangements," Saskatchewan muttered as he brought the mobile to his ear and started speaking softly—too softly for his brothers to hear—to whoever was on the other end of the line. "Bye," he finished just fifteen seconds later before he closed the cover and pocketed the device. "Now we can go," he said with a curt gesture forward and the three took off in a jog.

"What was that all about, anyway?" Alberta questioned, to which Saskatchewan merely smirked.

"You'll see when we get there."

* * *

><p>This was Ukraine's second experience riding a snowmobile. Her first ride unfortunately did not have the best of outcomes. She went once with her little brother and sister to a course some of Russia's people built just east of Saint Petersburg. It was only a few years after the Nations of the Soviet Union went their separate ways, and she had agreed to visit mostly for the opportunity to spend time with her family again, since her bosses were urging her to keep her distance from them in political affairs.<p>

Ukraine expected their reunion to be much sweeter because of this sad truth, and indeed, for a short while the three did enjoy themselves riding the machines over and around and down the man-made slopes faster than she ever could have on her skis. The good times ended when their paths crossed with a group of teenagers clearly drunk on vodka. They began jeering at the countries, but picked mostly on Ukraine. When one tried to approach her, Russia stepped between them, only to grunt in pain as the adolescent swiped at his arm, the pocketknife at hand glinting in the sunlight.

What was next happened too fast for Ukraine to remember very much of besides a few broken images seared permanently in her psyche. Her brother's forearm started to drip red. An animalistic snarl came from behind her. In a deadly whirlwind spurred by the sight of Russia's injury, Belarus dove between her brother and his citizens with a knife in each hand and stained the snow scarlet with the teenagers' blood. It took all of the strength that Ukraine and her brother had to restrain their sister before she killed any of them, but the damage was done, and the memory of the once cheerful day trip was converted to a crimson nightmare of pain, screams, and frantic questions from paramedics and police.

To say the least, her time with Canada was much different. Ukraine gazed over her shoulder at the beautiful sight of nature passing by: azure skies painted with faint brush-strokes of white, unspoiled snow over rolling hills, and trees towering like skyscrapers over her head. Each sight made her draw a breath of crisp, fresh air into her lungs, and her exhalations left a spinning stream of misty atmosphere to mark the air where she and her companion just were.

She was so caught in the beauty of the moment that Ukraine failed to notice that the snowmobile was pulling to a stop until her view of the striking sky was blocked by a tree for too long. Blinking to try and reclaim her wits, Ukraine fought to readjust her thoughts as she realized that she was entirely lost in the majestic tour. She didn't even realize until just now that she had grasped the rail of the vehicle under each side of the seat in an iron grip. She winced in a little aching pain as she released them and crossed them again over her lap.

Canada shifted the gears of the machine and turned around, pulling his goggles up to rest over his forehead. "How are you doing? Need a break?"

"N—no, not at all," Ukraine stammered, trying her best not to stare wistfully into those two indigo eyes, positively shimmering now that they were bare of any glass before them. "I want to keep going, unless you need to stop."

He shook his head. "I'm fine; I just wanted to make sure. You've been really quiet."

"Oh," was all she could think of to say as she adamantly refused the near-unbearable temptation to read into Canada's words for more than their face value.

Canada looked about to say something else, but instead he paused, and his eyebrows furrowed closer together. "Do you hear that?"

Ukraine tilted her head. "Hear what?"

"I hear something. It sounds like it's just up ahead." Canada reached back up and pulled his eyewear back down. "Do you mind if we go check it out?"

"It's not an animal or anything, is it?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Doubtful," he answered seconds before shifting into low gear and starting forward. They turned left around the bend of the trail, immediately turned right, and left again not a minute later. Before long, Ukraine heard the noise, too: a white-sound clamour of voices unable to talk over each other. The snowmobile rounded the final corner and came to an abrupt stop at the sight of the state of their destination.

"What is that?" Ukraine voiced the sole question on both Nations' minds.

* * *

><p>"What is that?" Alberta and Manitoba asked in unison, staring through the tiny clearing in the woods.<p>

* * *

><p>"What the <em>devil<em> is _that_?" Prince Edward Island cried as she peered down the steep slopes. Tiny figures, only the size of ants at her distance, were scampering on the ice of the frozen lake. There must have been at least two hundred of them, probably more, some appearing to settle in one place and others darting to and fro from larger fixtures spread out along the south shore. "Joel, take a look," she ordered. "What do you see?"

Nova Scotia fumbled with his backpack for a few seconds, retrieved the binoculars, and brought them up to his eyes to get a closer look. "I'seems leuyke a contest 'er somethin'."

* * *

><p>"It's a contest of sorts," Saskatchewan answered his brothers simply, not even batting an eye at the scene.<p>

* * *

><p>"Welcome one and all to everyone's favourite contest: the Annual Little Pearl Lake Ice Fishing Derby!" an enthusiastic voice blared through a speakerphone to the crowd of people, some of whom were listening to the bearded man on the stage while others were passing from booth to booth, collecting fishing rods, lures, winds of twine, paddles, drills, and paper cups steaming from the drinking hole on top. The platform itself was very simple, just a few wooden crates bunched together, leading one to think that this was a very low-budget competition.<p>

However, there was a suspicious package behind the stage: a large, bulky object obscured by a white sheet.

The speaker continued with jubilant enthusiasm, "For all of you who are new to the competition, lemme tell you how this works. You and your teammates all sign in at the registration booth behind me, and you get one set of everything: one pole, one box of bait, one drill, and so on. Then you get three hours, from 1:30 to 4:30, to catch the three biggest fish that you can.

The winning team at the end of the tournament wins this trophy, here," he pointed to the green and gold award which stood proudly up past the height of the man's kneecaps, "a year's worth of free hot and cold beverages at the lodge, and this prize right here!" The man took a few steps back, grabbed a fistful of the sheet over the final prize, and with a tug revealed the object underneath to gasps of delight from the multitude of Saskatchewanians and one particular farming Nation.

"It's a new tractor!" Ukraine breathed, the edges of her lips growing taught as they rose at the sight of the bright yellow painted machine flashing in the sunlight.

"This is not just any tractor, mind you," the announcer continued, as if he heard Ukraine's whisper of delight. "This baby has a 50 horsepower diesel engine, eight speed settings, four-wheel drive, and a resistance to wear and weather that makes competing tractors jealous. All of this is just for you, just for catching fish. So, without further ado, I declare this competition..._ON_!" The change in the audience was immediate. The semi-evenly spaced listeners conglomerated into small groups before shuffling off in opposite directions to scatter around the lake.

"How in the world did they raise enough money for a tractor like that for a fishing derby?" Canada mused out loud, snapping his guest out of her fantasies, "And I wonder why Saskatchewan never said anything about such an important competition taking place up here today."

"It probably just slipped his mind," the poorer Nation supposed, trying to ignore the floating sparkles she could have sworn were dancing around the beautiful machine on the ice. To Ukraine, the man might as well have revealed a car or a boat or a giant check. How much easier it would be for her to tend her fields perched on the seat high above the ground, pressing buttons and turning a steering wheel instead of painstakingly working the ground by hand. Her calluses, which still tore and bled every spring after all these years, practically screamed at the Slavic woman to compete just for that reason alone.

But despite this, Ukraine regretfully tore her sight away from the pristine machine. She couldn't presume that Canada would think the same way about the competition. After all, there were so many competitors, so what was their chance of winning? And if they did compete, it would only be fair if Canada had a stake in the prize, too. How could they share a tractor from two very distant countries? Besides, they were having a lovely afternoon so far. Canada wouldn't want to risk spoiling such a wonderful day over some silly contest, would he?

Canada hummed, turning to face her. "So, what do you want to do? Keep riding or go fishing?"

Two pale eyebrows darted up at the offer. "You're letting _me_ decide? And even if we won, what would we do?"

"I don't have any use for a tractor, and you don't have any use for a year of free coffee and soda in Saskatchewan," Canada grinned, removing his goggles once again to reveal those deep glistening orbs that usually stayed hidden behind glass. "So, it's entirely up to you."

_Hospody pomylui_, she thought to herself as she fought to remember to breathe amid the sight of her host and the echo of a 50 horsepower diesel engine roaring above the chatter of other competitors in her head. _Those eyes will be the end of me!_

* * *

><p>The three Prairie Provinces, who stepped out of the thicket just as the two Nations turned their backs and headed to the registration table, displayed three very different expressions. Saskatchewan looked unchanged from before, save for a slight smile that graced his visage at the sight of his mother and father figures together at last. Manitoba still looked as far from the word 'friendly' as a person possibly could, but his features now held new hints of surprise and envy (though he would decry any accusations of the latter until his voice went hoarse). Lastly, there was Alberta, who held an awestruck look in his eye and was clearly resisting an urge to march onto the ice, snatch the ball-point pen out of his father's hand, and scratch his own name on the sheet to make a grab for the easy prizes and fish feast that came with it.<p>

"How 'bout that," the cowboy muttered. "Now _this_ is a good idea for good winter recreation. When your hockey team's not doing so hot, that is."

"Well, it would be," Saskatchewan stroked his chin, "if any of it were real."

Manitoba did a double-take at his younger brother's words. "What are you talking about? What are we missing, here?"

The farmer boy let out a small chuckle. "You see, there _is _no 'Annual Little Pearl Lake Ice Fishing Derby.' No one was here last year, and no one will be here next year. There were live fish dumped into the lake just a few days ago. And the entire park was rented out just for this one occasion, and everyone on the ice right now except for Dad and my mom are paid actors who are going to throw back anything they catch that is bigger than what Dad and my mom catch."

With each revelation Saskatchewan told, Alberta's and Manitoba's jaws dropped lower and lower. "Wha?" they slurred in perfect harmony.

"I'm sure proud of all of them," the middle brother continued, beaming as they watched a middle-aged woman hand Ukraine a tackle box as a man, presumably her husband, nudged Canada's side with his elbow and said something that caused the North American Nation to break out in a wide smile with a light-hearted laugh. "Love's population wasn't quite enough to make this seem like a genuine contest, but after everyone brought a friend or two from Smeaton or Garrick or some of the other towns around here, they managed to pull it off."

A thought flickered across Alberta's mind. "The other phone call you made, it was to them. You did this?"

"Yes, which reminds me," Saskatchewan took his phone out of his coat again and started dialling, "since Dad and my mom decided to go for the ice fishing after all, I can cancel the hot air balloon rides and the bonfire."

"Jeez," Manitoba uttered just as Saskatchewan started to speak to the person on the other end of the phone line in a hushed voice, sparing glances up at his mother and father every few seconds, "If you ask me, Sask needs to get a girl of his own instead."

"You know, if you really think so, I could set him up with BC," Alberta replied, smirking as he watched his older brother's face turn pink.

"Why—what the—how'd you—_no_!" Manitoba stammered out.

"Oh? Do you and Victoria have a little somethin'-somethin' happening on the side?"

"That's not it at all," the elder brother screeched, ignoring the sudden temperature rising around his ears.

"Then that means you have the hots for Sask, right?"

"I do not, you hoser!"

Alberta's smile turned even more teasing. He brought a gloved hand to his cheek and blinked like a seductress at a bar. "Oh, wow, I'm flattered, but you're just not my type."

"THAT'S_ IT_!" Manitoba reached down and grabbed a fistful of snow and hurled it at the cowboy, who was temporarily distracted enough to not notice his brother charging at him until he was tackled to the snow, laughing amid enraged shouts until the assaulter was pulled away by a less-than-impressed Saskatchewan.

"Can't you two keep it down while I'm on the phone?" he huffed, glaring at each of his brothers in turn. "We still have PEI to worry about, and who knows what she is planning right now."

* * *

><p>"So, wha's th'plan, Anne?" Nova Scotia asked.<p>

Prince Edward Island turned her head away from the Nations on the lake as they finished preparing for the derby and began marching together away from the stage, chatting amiably along the way. "I don't need to tell you how bad this looks for us, do I?" she muttered, her expression completely flat. "Especially if my suspicions are correct and the competition is rigged."

Newfoundland looked up at the adults of the group with confusion etched on his face. "How do you cheat in a fishing competition?"

"_Je ne sais pas_," New Brunswick replied with a shrug.

The carrot-haired girl pursed her lips in thought. "Brother," she finally asked, "do you still have that box of pranks?"

"Euy shure do," he said, pulling off his backpack to show his sister.

"Okay, I have an idea," the short girl declared, pointing two fingers at the two oldest provinces in the group. "You are going to lure Matty away from the contest and into the woods, where you are going to play practical joke after practical joke on him to make him absolutely miserable and keep him far away from that Ukraine girl. Meanwhile, since she doesn't know my face, I'm going to give her a piece of my mind, make her understand that my boy is off limits, one way or another."

New Brunswick and Nova Scotia nodded, the latter a bit more enthusiastically. "Ye can cownt on us f'r all yer prak-tic-al joke needs, boss."

"_Oui_, and I'll keep _mon petit renard_ in line as well." With a slight chuckle from Nova Scotia, the duo turned away and began to hike back into the woods. Newfoundland and Nunavut exchanged expressions for a moment and started to follow suit, but they were suddenly and sharply yanked back by the hoods of their respective coats.

"Not you," Prince Edward Island hummed as she proceeded to drag the toddlers to the registration booth. "You have something else that's very important to do."

Newfoundland blinked. "We do?" he asked as he tried to keep up with the little woman dragging him backwards, who offered him a quick nod in response.

"Although separating those two is important, as is making my Matty unhappy here and me teaching that girl a lesson, every single thing we manage to accomplish will be forgotten if they end up winning the grand prize." She released the tiny children upon arrival, causing them each to fall on their bums on the ice. "But you, Newfoundland, are an expert in catching fish, and you, Nunavut, are an expert at working with ice. So you are going to win this competition instead."

Nunavut pouted as she shakily rose to her feet and helped her friend do the same. "But, if we win, wouldn't we be recognized when we get our award?"

"I will take care of that when the time comes," Prince Edward Island replied as she signed both of the children's names to enter them together into the contest. She nudged the duo off down the long line of booths where a dozen 'volunteers' dumped fishing and ice breaking equipment into their unready arms. "You just focus on winning first and foremost," the island province called to them, her voice growing fainter and fainter with distance. "I'll come find you when the competition is over."

If she said anything else, Newfoundland and Nunavut couldn't hear her over the swarm of people all around them, pushing and shoving and borderline shouting as if they too were here to compete.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

* * *

><p><span>Translations:<span>

_Hospody_ _pomylui_—Ukrainian: "Lord have mercy"

_Je ne sais pas—_French: "I don't know"

_Oui—_French: "Yes"

_Mon petit renard_—French: "My little fox"


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN**_**: Psst!**

**Guess what?**

**I'm not dead!**

**So I bet you're wondering (or demanding with pitchforks and torches) where I've been and why this fic hasn't been updated in...a year and a half... -_- Long story short, I got distracted when I didn't have writer's block, and then I got writer's block when I wasn't distracted, plus I moved recently, so that took even more time to get used to. If it helps at all (although it probably doesn't), this chapter is longer than the others! That's something, right?  
><strong>

**I actually divided this chappie in half and made this one sort of a stepping-stone to build up to some...really crazy things that are still to come. You might get a hint about what it'll be if you read close enough...but that's all I'm going to say for now!**

**Thanks to my buddy **Pink-Kitty-Kela** for giving me some excellent tips on how to improve this chapter. She wanted me to tell all of you to be angry with her for also taking a while with the edits, but please don't. She really makes this story a lot better to read.**

**Lastly, as always, I do not own Hetalia, and this fanfiction is made purely for the sake of fun, practise, and entertainment! I also don't own **ctcsherry**'s provinces. Oh well~**

* * *

><p>With the flick of Ukraine's finger against the metal lever on her fishing pole, the tiny lure fell with a <em>ker-plunk!<em> into the icy water. She idly watched for a moment as the jig descended, growing increasingly blurry and dark until it was indistinguishable from the freezing water around it.

"Now, you're just going to let it go all the way to the bottom. Try moving your rod up and down a bit," Canada suggested beside her as he pulled open the complementary fold-out chair. Ukraine jerked her wrist a few times and watched as the line whizzed out of the spinner, settling briefly on top of the surface before being dragged down. After a few more jerks, Ukraine felt the rod become slightly, yet noticeably lighter as the twine limply collected on the surface.

"I don't think it's going down anymore," she said, furrowing her eyebrows.

Canada pulled his seat closer to his companion's and peered down through the hole in the ice with her. "Yup, that'll do it. Reel it in just a couple of times, now." Ukraine did just that, listening to each tiny _click_ of the spinner as she brought her line in. The extra weight reapplied itself to the pole as the lure lifted off the bottom of the lake below. Two more revolutions up, and Ukraine brought her hand away from the spinner and back to the padded handle. "Now what do I do?"

"Now, we wait," Canada replied as he leaned back in his chair.

The awkward silence that permeated the earlier drive took its chance to manifest itself again, and it returned in full force. Ukraine lowered her head and scowled, making sure to hide her frown behind her ashen hair. _What is this?_ she asked herself. _Canada and I always found something to talk about before. We practically couldn't stop. The fact that today is Valentine's Day shouldn't make this much of a difference!_

But it did, she knew. The date and location she found herself in forced her to reevaluate their relationship. From the very day they met, when his vast lands were next to uninhabited and her people were famished and discontent, they forged an unlikely alliance. He gladly took in her citizens when they had nowhere else to go, promising to take care of them, and in return she taught him her culture and showed him how to work his prairies the way that she worked her own steppes.

Then the wars came, and her country fell to invasions, famines, and ultimately to her own brother's rising power. But she would never forget the one morning only a few weeks after she reluctantly moved into Russia's house when she received a small white envelope in the mail, nor the gentle questions Canada had asked in their first letter on "How was the move?" and "Have you made any new friends?" and "Do you think Russia might let you come with me for some coffee after the next meeting?" She locked herself in her room for half of the morning and wept tears of joy as she wrote her reply, then later snuck it out with Russia's mail abroad. As insignificant as she was—as weak, as subservient, as over-emotional, as needy—there was still one person who genuinely cared for her.

But did that translate to romantic terms? Canada and Ukraine, in love. She found the notion rather strange, yes, but not offensive. Canada would be an excellent lover: gentle, funny, patient, and certainly easy on the eyes… _And I've got breasts_, the cynical voice in her mind scathed and the crease in her forehead deepened. _Someone like him should be with someone so much better than me._

With a heavy sigh, Ukraine pushed all of these thoughts to the farthest corners of her consciousness. Now was not the time to dwell on them, she resolved.

* * *

><p>On the other side of the lake, two young children were in the midst of the same ritual that Canada and Ukraine had accomplished. They settled in a spot distant from all the other competitors, far enough out of earshot so that they would not draw attention to themselves. After combining their small strengths to break through the thick ice, Newfoundland released his hook and line into the water with an expertise that looked far beyond his infantile appearance. "This is just like normal jigging, isn't it?" he asked the younger territory.<p>

Nunavut nodded affirmatively. "Why are you using the little hook, though?"

"It's part of my strategy," the boy answered. "We're allowed to catch three fish, right?"

"Yeah, and only three," the Inuit said, tilting her head.

"Well, I'm gonna try to get a bait fish." Newfoundland wiggled the rod, sending miniscule ripples across the surface. "We'll get the people in charge to record that one right away, and as soon as they do, I'm going to put that fish on my hook and use it to catch and even bigger fish. Then, after we show the judges that one, we're going to put the bigger fish on the hook and use it to catch the biggest fish all day."

"You really think that will work, Newfoundle?"

At that very moment, the tip of the long rod jiggled without the small province's slight hand motions. Two sets of eyes locked onto the end of the pole, which jiggled about for a few moments—up, down, left, right—before tugging noticeably harder and thrashing around all the way down the line in the frigid lake below.

Newfoundland smiled mysteriously. "Trust me, I'm a professional."

* * *

><p>"I'm just trying to understand what is so 'romantic' about fishing. That's all."<p>

"And I'm _trying_ to explain that it has all of the elements of a great first date. A long time to talk and get to know each other better, in between moments of excitement to raise the heartbeat and encourage amorous emotions, and enough food so that the parties involved feel physically content. Plus, _when_ they win, the prize will become a symbol of accomplishment that they achieved together, and whenever my mom looks at it—which will be often—she'll be reminded of Dad."

Manitoba scowled at the explanation. "That doesn't make any sense! You can't just predict that these things will happen."

"Actually, I can," Saskatchewan contradicted. "You become able to intuit these things after studying them for a few decades."

"You've been planning this for decades?" Alberta interrupted with a typical obnoxious laugh. "See, Ilan, he _needs_ you! Why don't we all head back to town, get a few drinks, and let cupid work his magic on you guys?"

The two brothers turned bright red, then paled with disgust. "E—eh?" "Wha—"

"_And it's a heave-ho, high-ho, coming down the plains, stealing wheat and barley and all the other gr..._"

"Kate. _Thank_ you," Saskatchewan breathed and whipped his phone open. "What's going on?"

"_Anne and her family are all splitting up,_" Yukon answered on the other end. "_Nova Scotia and New Brunswick went into the forest, Newfoundland and Nunavut entered the competition, and PEI's just sort of gone off on her own somewhere. I lost sight of her in the crowd._"

The Prairie Province bit back a curse. "You think you could follow Joel and Marie? Make sure that whatever they try to do doesn't work?"

"_Sure thing. Yukon out._" The line went dead.

Saskatchewan pocketed his cell and looked to his brothers. "Newfoundland and Nunavut entered the contest," he put it simply.

"Say no more, we're on it," Alberta declared with a nod and pulled on Manitoba's jacket, causing the brunet to roll his eyes in exasperation but follow after the cowboy that was his younger brother, trudging down the snowy hill and onto the frozen lake. Saskatchewan pulled the hood of his coat as far over his head as he could, nuzzled his chin into his collar, and slipped into a passing group of fishers unnoticed.

* * *

><p>Ukraine was jolted out of her ponderings by an unusual wiggle in her rod, one not spurred by her own doing. "Canada, I felt something," she said with a hint of excitement and nervousness as she pulled her body out of its slump in her chair.<p>

"You did?" Her friend's gaze dropped into the icy hole, where Ukraine's line was still jiggling, being toyed with deep underwater. "Very easy, now. Slight movements are the key; don't do anything until you _know_ you have it hooked." Biting her lip, the Slavic Nation barely moved her wrists as she carefully followed Canada's instruction, pressing her elbows into her sides to ward off her anxious shakes. The tense seconds clicked slowly by as two sets locked on to the line, refusing to stray until the twine pulled down a little, and then pulled down a _lot_.

"That's it!" Ukraine's eyes lit up with a mix of excitement and nervousness, her hands stark white under her gloves as she gripped the rod as hard as her knuckles would allow.

Canada was on the edge of his seat, his eyes pinned inseparably to the violently thrashing line. "Go, go!"

The sounds of the wire being retracted back around the spinner filled the air. Ukraine would lift the rod up high above the surface of the water for a few seconds, then reel in the twine she revealed to the frigid air. Before long, a dark colouration made a presence deep underwater, moving to and fro with each jerk on the fishing rod, and coming closer and closer to the surface. As it neared the surface, the colour grew ichthyne details: a head, a tail, scales, and fins.

Canada knelt by the edge of the ice, removed his gloves, and rolled up his sleeves. He waited...waited...and then _shot_ his arm into the water and pulled out the most impressive freshwater fish Ukraine had seen in a _very_ long time. The pike flapped helplessly in the air, its gills wide open in a hopeless effort to breathe, and Canada quickly turned around and set it on the ice. He rummaged through the toolbox they were provided with at the registration table and removed a pocket knife, flicking it open and pressing it against the fish's head, just behind its eye.

Then, for just a moment, he turned apologetically to Ukraine. "You might want to cover your eyes."

She did, and a heartbeat later she heard a sickening crunch, like the sounds of a tomato squishing flat and thin wooden twigs snapping at the same time, and then silence. She waited a moment more before hesitatingly dropping her hands to see Canada standing over her catch, cleaning the knife off with a tissue. The fish now lay motionless on the ice, a dark hole now present where the knife once was and the colour crimson spreading on the snow and ice underneath.

"It's easier this way on everybody," Canada explained, his tone of voice now much calmer. "Otherwise it could take half an hour for it to...you know."

Ukraine sighed, and then nodded. "Yes, I know. I cull animals on my farm. It's better to do it quick."

"Oh that's right, so you must have done this, too," Canada said as he waved down a representative from the judges' booth to measure and record their catch, who took the fish back with her with a congratulatory smile. Canada settled back down into his fold-out chair and watched as Ukraine set the lure and drop it back into the water. "Farm life..."

Ukraine blinked. "Yes?"

Realizing he was caught daydreaming, Canada shook his head. "I was just thinking...what is it like? Living on a farm, that is."

A happy smile peaked onto Ukraine's face. "It's quite nice, actually," she said, thinking back to her lands. "It takes a lot of work, and I don't get very much money, but…I find it calming." She paused, remembering. "It's hard, to be a Nation. There are so many people who want you do be someone you aren't, and they tell you who you can and cannot associate with. So even though it might be impractical, when I _could_ be close to the capital and not have to commute for very long when my bosses call for me, I think that…keeping my farm is my constant. My way of dealing with everything, and meanwhile I know I can provide something for my people. In that sense, it keeps me sane." A silence hung in the air.

"Some part of me always wished that I could live like that," Canada mused as he toyed with his folded hands, wringing them absently. "Have somewhere that's carefree and just mine, where I can get away from Alfred, and my boss, and my thirteen provinces and territories who _always_ seem to be fighting about something," a chuckle, and then a sigh. "But I think that there's a bigger part of me that just loves to be around people, be friends with people, help people—" he bit his tongue. He was coming dangerously close to a very distinct line in his relationship with the Slavic woman. A line that said woman cautiously breached.

"Back then," Ukraine started to ask, but then she chewed on her lip, unsure about how to phrase her thoughts, "you weren't even entirely independent from Mister England. And you could have gotten in a lot of trouble if Ivan found out that you and me… I mean, why would you do that? You had every reason to leave me, like all the others." She was still, and her eyes softened. "You _should_ have left me."

"That's the funny thing," Canada chuckled, though the seriousness layered below made the laugh sound out of place, "Maybe it's just Alfred being overly influential with his culture as usual, but I can't help but think that I should have done _more_. I mean, you were starving and getting oppressed and a _real_ hero should have come barging in to take you away from that. Or at least spoken out loud against what Ivan and the other members of the Union were doing to you, and maybe push demands for your freedom. But all I ever really did was…" his voice lowered, humbled in his perceived uselessness, "write you those letters."

The sounds of the frozen lake did little to punctuate the terse stillness that fell over the Nations. The measly weight of the note in Ukraine's pocket felt like it had increased tenfold with the words from Canada's mouth. It took a long minute, but when she found her voice again, "Matvey," she said, for the first time that day calling the other by his human name, "if you had not written those letters, I do not know how I would have made it through."

It took a long time for the implications of this heavy confession to make sense in Canada's mind, and when they did he could not react, anyway. His lips parted, his eyes widened, his voice cracked when he tried to speak, but what could he say to that, anyway? But the reassuring look on Ukraine's face told him that no reaction was an alright reaction. It was better to simply leave the subject alone, if even just for now, was what he read from her silence, and from the slow glimmer in her turquoise irises.

_She's so beautiful,_ his thoughts whispered, echoing deep in the far corners his mind. _And strong, and caring, and she has this amazing smile…_ Canada all but melted at that, and he wished so hard that he could see that very smile right now. He did not even realize that he was leaning closer to her, and she was leaning right back. _No one else does this to me. No one but her…_

"Oi, did'ja hear?"

A deep, unfamiliar voice boomed right behind Canada's back, causing him to sit up, rigid in his seat. He whipped his head around, only to see the back of a man, supposedly talking to someone else. He shifted back and faced forward, trying to block out the offending voice as best he could, but it was just simply too loud and too deep to fully ignore.

"There were these kids that found some poor guy's Skidoo in the woods back there, pristine condition with gas in the engine and everything. Beautiful machine, all red and white the way it is. It's a shame, really…"

Canada's ears pricked to that. He leapt to his feet and spun to look at the man. "Wait, excuse me, sir. About that snowmobile, what were those kids going to do with it?"

The man still didn't turn around, but he nodded to show that he acknowledged the question. "Uh, I think that they were going to go joyriding, if no one came to get it, that is. Hope they're okay… one of 'em looked a little tipsy."

The two Nations' jaws dropped open to the reply and a sinking feeling of dread ebbed its way into Canada's heart. He turned around to face Ukraine, a small facial tick affecting his eye. "I have to leave."

Ukraine nodded. "Of course, do you want me to come?"

"No, I'll take care of this," Canada said, checking to make sure that he still had his keys in his pocket. "You can manage fishing alone?"

"I—I think so."

"Okay, I'll be as fast as I can," he reassured her and turned to race back in the direction where he left his vehicle, muttering Quebecois curses under his breath the whole way there.

Neither of them could figure out why they felt strangely disappointed by this turn of events.

* * *

><p>After a sip of hot chocolate and a small plate of potatoes and fried fish, a particular red-headed girl wove her way around a few dozen holes in the ice and the small assemblies of people around each one. Her peridot eyes searched the lake for her target, noting the surprisingly crowded winter scene. Saskatchewanians of all ages had turned out to compete, from children as young as Nunavut appeared to be to old men who walked with wooden canes. This was indeed a special event, she reasoned, if the rural towns close to the Narrow Hills were willing to pitch in so much: barbeque grills for turning the fish into lunch, booths run by local tackle shops displaying their prized lures and guaranteeing trophy catches with just a single cash purchase, even a giant inflatable castle for the children to bounce around in on the shore. On the surface, it really did appear to be a legitimate fishing derby.<p>

However, Prince Edward Island's entire perception changed as she saw a man and what seemed to be his teenage daughter work together to haul a beautiful speckled pike out of the ice, much to the applause of a group of friends gathered behind them. The two smiled brightly, proudly, but threw each other a knowing glance before the daughter walked off with the fish to the judge's table, chatting with her friends on the way.

From the corner of her eye, Prince Edward Island watched as the man withdrew a small orange bottle out of his coat pocket. Even from her distance, she could clearly see the red-hot chilli pepper printed on the label under the bolded words "Inferno Sauce." He opened the flip-lid up with a _snap_ and drizzled a few drops of the red liquid over his hook. Satisfied, he flicked the lid closed once again, pocketed the bottle, and re-set his line into the lake. The Island Province might not have had the angling experience that Newfoundland or even Nova Scotia possessed, but some part of her recognized that despite (or rather, _because_ _of_) his successful catch just moments ago, that man just sabotaged all of his chances of a second fish, and thus his shot at winning was forfeit.

"That scumbag," she hissed at the emerging mental image of a certain prairie boy as she forced her legs to keep walking away tossing dirty glances at the shams of fishermen all around her until her gaze landed on just the right place. The sounds of two voices seemed to rise above all of the others around her as she started to make her way to the source.

"You can manage fishing alone?" Prince Edward Island could recognize that voice anywhere.

She then caught sight other person, _the_ _woman_, who nodded hesitatingly. "I—I think so."

The redheaded girl roughly shoved a small boy out of her way in time to hear the first voice say, "Okay, I'll be as fast as I can," and disappear away from the fishing area. For a split second, Prince Edward Island was tempted to follow the fair-haired young man off of the lake, whisk him back east and feed him his favourite pancake recipe with a side of hash browns made from her world-famous red potatoes until all thoughts of the girl from back East vanished from his mind.

But no, she decided as her sights set on Ukraine. She would stop this problem at the root.

Ukraine sunk back into her seat, a small frown on her face. She gave the line a few quick jigs, watching with feigned interest as the ripples expanded on the water's surface. She waited with half-lidded eyes and a slow sinking feeling in her heart when the sounds of boots crunching brought her out of her trance. "Well, it seemed your man abandoned you, eh?" a high, trilling voice said from behind the Slavic woman. Its owner sat down on the vacant chair across the length of the hole, crossing her legs and putting her hands in her lap like the sweet little girl she appeared to be.

"U-um, I'm sorry, does Matvey know you?" Ukraine asked, pursing her lips.

_Does he ever,_ Prince Edward Island hissed in her thoughts, which she masked through her sweet smile and her carefully chosen words. "No, I'm just a typical local. Call me An—nabelle. Annabelle Monty," she lied through her teeth. Just in case Canada ever spoke of his provinces to the other, she figured it was better to use a fake name.

"I s-see. It's nice to meet you, Annabelle." The Slavic woman nodded courteously, but she squirmed around in her seat. Something about the girl across the ice—maybe it was her piercing sea-green eyes, maybe it was her tense posture, or maybe it was just the bite in her tone of voice—seemed just on the edge of malevolent.

Prince Edward Island grinned wide. "The pleasure is all mine. And you are…?"

"M-me? Um…" Ukraine rubbed her arm softly, no longer able to meet the other girl's gaze.

"Well, no matter," Prince Edward Island waved the issue off. "What's in a name, anyway?"

Ukraine sighed in relief; the situation felt uncomfortable enough without giving away her rarely-used human name away, especially to the strange but very forward girl. "So, are you here to fish? Ukraine asked, looking back up again. "Where is the rest of your team?"

"They're off somewhere else, doing pretty well from what I hear. I'm not much of an angler, personally," Prince Edward Island replied, swinging her legs a bit in her chair. "I am much more interested in where _your_ teammate ran off to. He looked like he could not leave you fast enough."

Ukraine might have been much, much taller than the redhead, but the island province's word choice made her feel very small. "O-oh, well you see, w-we remembered that we left his snowmobile in the woods, a-and he had to go find a safer place to put it."

The corners of the younger girl's lips twitched. "I'm not so sure, it sounds rather sketchy to me."

"What do you mean?" Ukraine turned her head a degree. "I don't see h—"

"—Come now, you seem like a smart young lady, a good head on your shoulders." Prince Edward Island could not believe what she was saying, speaking well of Ukraine and unkindly of Canada. _It's for the best,_ she convinced herself. _Anything to get Matty away from this woman._

Ukraine flinched at the sudden interruption. "A-are you suggesting that Matvey is hiding something from me?"

With a little toss of her braided hair, Prince Edward Island narrowed her eyes. "Men do tend to go to strange lengths to keep secrets from their women…"

The Slavic woman flushed in embarrassment. "OH! Oh, no no no, you don't understand!" she protested. She chuckled out loud as the horrible tenseness clenching in her stomach was released, and realization washed over her. "Is _that_ what you were concerned about? I'm sorry, but you're wrong; he and I are just friends. Nothing more."

"Don't bother trying to make excuses with me," Prince Edward Island hissed. "I _saw_ the way you were looking at him. You're _attracted_ to him, aren't you?"

A deep rosehip-rouge colour instantly spread over Ukraine's cheeks. Her breathing stopped short at the sudden allegation, and all of a sudden she felt—for lack of a better word—_vulnerable_. All words of protest died right there in her throat.

(And as much as Saskatchewan would have normally rejoiced at that, he deemed that here and now it was simply the wrong time and the wrong place.)

"I'm just saying, it is always better to ere on the side of caution when dealing with the greater sex. It's good advice."

As the redheaded girl continued, Ukraine had all but tuned out, choosing to psudo-listen to the loudmouthed redhead's exact words, but still her message was still coming in loud and clear. It couldn't be true, could it? Never mind whatever Canada felt for her, she didn't care for him more than a friend. Or did she? She scowled at the feeling of how _silly_ she was for not knowing her own emotions to answer such a simple question. Her fingers tightened and then loosened again on the handle of her fishing rod as she passively watched the line bob up, and down, and up, and down, and down, and down, and—

"O—oh! I've got one! I've got one!" Ukraine gasped, rising to her feet as she began to whirl the line in, her eyes locked on the break in the ice. Within seconds, she spotted a patch of darkness under the water, which grew bigger and more detailed with each passing moment before a respectably-sized pike broke through the surface, shaking its tail to and fro in a useless attempt to escape again. "Look at this! It's so big!"

Prince Edward Island pressed her lips into a thin line. "What great timing the fish had. How _convenient_ for you."

Ukraine's smile rivaled the Cheshire Cat's own while she grabbed at the line. "It is, isn't it? One of the judges is just making his rounds right now," she noted, glancing at the elderly man testing the weight of a trout a few metres away.

Prince Edward Island wrinkled her nose. "Indeed…" she mused, slowly getting to her feet and slinking away from the distracted Ukrainian, her mind ever wrapped around the notion that this entire encounter was simply too _fishy_ to be true.

Little did she know about the lanky Saskatchewanian in heat-retaining scuba gear below the ice, wrapping up a large net as he made his way toward the shore, where he could easily climb out of the break he made in the ice.

And little did said Saskatchewanian know of what lurked even further down in the darkest depths of the lake.

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, lady," a chocolate-haired toddler piped up below the judges' table.<p>

A middle-aged woman leaned over to see the girl's face, but her eyebrows shot up instead when she was met with the sight of a muskie the length of her arm, and more than twice the width around. It was so fresh from the water that it was still laboriously trying to breathe. "Oh my—Paul! Paul, look at this one!"

It only took a few moments more for the entire populace around the adjudication table to erupt in cries of amazement for the tiny tot and her impressive catch. They quickly took the fish from her arms and weighed it on their scale, then returned it so that a few amazed fishers could take a picture of the smallest competitor with one of the largest fish caught so far. In fact, it was second only to an earlier catch made by the adorable young woman with an unusually large bosom and her masculine friend, the pair that her mysterious neighbour claimed _must win at all costs…_

As the excitement began to die down, the first judge looked back down on the tot, who was basking in all of the sudden attention. "Do you want us to cook that fish for you, little girl? We'll fry it up, nice and tasty."

The girl smiled but shook her head. "No thank you," she replied as she trotted off in the direction that she came from, the enormous fish dragging limp on the ice below.

The woman suppressed a chuckle at the sight and settled back into her seat. As she did, however, a concerning thought passed her mind. "Paul," she asked the elderly man beside her, who turned and gave her his full attention at the hint of concern laced in her voice, "none of us get paid unless that other couple wins. But another catch like that one for that little girl and her friend, and we might not have any choice. Do you think that they know?"

The other judge toyed with the ball-point pen in his hand. "I'm not too worried about it, Marge. They're just two little kids that got very lucky. And their first fish was a tiny thing; this was probably just a coincidence, and I doubt they'll cause any harm."

Meanwhile, back at her fishing hole, Nunavut passed the prized catch back to the unlikely fishing expert. "Are you sure that you want to put him _back_ on your line?" Nunavut asked, bewildered at the concept. "He seems like the kind of fish that eats and doesn't _get_ eaten."

Newfoundland shook his head, a gleam of determination in his eyes. "I've felt something the moment I walked on this ice," he muttered, taking the pair of pliers out of the complimentary tool kit and using them to re-attach the hook deep inside the aquatic animal's mouth. "There's something _big_ down there. Something so huge that you can't catch it by any normal means."

Nunavut watched with confusion and downtrodden worry as Newfoundland grabbed the fish by its gills and slipped it back into the lake, before settling back into his fold-out chair. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I," Newfoundland sighed as he got a feel of the way that the line pulled so he would know if any additional or unusual tension was added onto it. "But there are lots of things that I don't understand, even things about fish. Can you make the hole a little bigger, please?"

Nunavut pursed her lips in concern but grabbed an ice-pick all the same. "Things like what?"

"Things like, why there are fossils of fish found every day in the middle of continents, or how do cold-blooded animals like fish still feed in winter when they should be asleep, or what about the legend of the Ogopogo?"

Nunavut cocked her head, halting the pick in mid-swing. "The what?"

"The Ogopogo. It's a story that BC tells sometimes, like Scotland and his Loch Ness monster. Hold on, I wonder if I can get to the internet from here." Newfoundland shuffled around in his coat pocket and retrieved his cell, entered his password on the miniature keyboard, and began tapping buttons to test his internet connection.

The smaller girl, now curious, left her ice pick and stood beside her friend, peering down with interest on the device. "That's a really fancy phone, Newfoundle."

"Thanks," he said, as he connected to the web. "I've been saving for it for a while now. It helps a little now that now I'm a 'Have' province."

"I guess I've at least got to hand you that much, Newf, you sure are one less sorry mouth that _I _have to feed. A few years ago, I never would have thought I'd see the day."

The two young children stiffened and looked over their shoulders, eyes wide in shock. "A—Alberta? Manitoba?" Nunavut piped up, a hint of fear in her voice.

"Heh, bet'cha didn't count on us dropping in," Alberta scoffed, a wide grin splayed across his face. "So, what's up?"

Newfoundland gulped. "N—nothing too interesting." His insistence was futile.

"Uh huh," Manitoba said, joining in. "Why aren't you pulling that up?"

The tots looked at the line going into the water, bent over with the weight and swimming of the impressive-sized fish on the end. "Don't wanna," Newfoundland tried again.

"And what are you looking up online?" Alberta didn't even wait for an answer. He snatched the phone right out of Newfoundland's hand, much to the protest to the younger province and territory. "The Ogopogo? That old fish story? What are you, four years old? Oh wait…" he snickered.

Nunavut scowled and rose to her feet, absolutely livid. "Stop picking on Newfoundle! You _know_ that he's really the oldest and it's not his fault he turned back into a baby!"

"Yeah yeah yeah, just let me play with the phone," Alberta laughed and waved the Inuit girl off. "Hey, you can actually get service out here! Anyone else want to prank-call Ontario?"

"What are you, four years old?" Newfoundland huffed, using Alberta's own insulting words against him. "Give it back to me!"

Manitoba shook his head. "There's really no stopping him, you know," he said with a shrug and sat himself down on the ice.

"That's right, there's not," the cowboy agreed and dialed a number into the phone before holding it up to his ear with a devious smirk on his face. A few rings passed and then a voice buzzed out of the speaker, just loud enough for Manitoba, Newfoundland, and Nunavut to hear as well.

"_Hello?" _it said.

"Yes?" Alberta said back, biting his bottom lip in anticipation.

"_Who is this? What do you want?"_

"Who am _I_? Who are _you_ and why did you call me?"

"_What are you talking about, _you_ just called _me_!"_

"I didn't call you, you called me. Now tell me: who you are and why are you wasting my time?!"

A scoff could be heard on the other side of the line. _"Oh, that's real funny, real funny. I'm hanging up!"_ Click. Dial tone.

"I bet you feel like an adult," Newfoundland rolled his eyes when Alberta burst into a bout of snickers. "Can I have my phone back, now?"

"Nope, not done," Alberta answered and hit redial, drawing the machine back up to his ear.

"_Hey, _you_ listen to _me_, mister!"_ Ontario's voice growled through the speaker, _"I am a very busy person, and I don't need some smart-aleck like you calling my phone, so if you're just going to waste my time, don't."_

"Um, ah, I don't know what's going on, but… I'm Chad from Air Canada," Alberta said through a nasally voice, chewing his lip to hold in a snicker.

"_Wha—OH! Oh, I am so sorry. I thought you were—" _

"Yeah yeah, whatever," Alberta said plainly, but looked to his elder brother with an expression of barely-restrained hilarity. "Listen, I'm just calling to inform you that your flight next week has been downgraded from first-class to coach."

There were a few beats of confused silence on the other end of the line as Ontario processed what Alberta had said. "_O—kay... then am I going to get my money back at the front desk, or will it go directly back into my checking account?"_

An evil grin spread over Alberta's face. "No, and no, you will not be refunded. Not one cent."

One second passed, then two more, and then..._ "Ex-cuse me? I'm not?"_ Alberta had to press his hand up against his mouth to muffle his cackles at Ontario's indignant response. _"I paid for a first-class ticket, thank you very much! If you absolutely _must_ downgrade me, and I don't have the _slightest_ idea why you would do such a thing in the first place, then at _least_ refund me the difference between prices!"_

"Sir, your attitude is inappropriate," Alberta reprimanded as he shot a thumbs-up to Manitoba. Newfoundland and Nunavut just exchanged unimpressed expressions. "If you continue to argue with me, then you'll have to pay a $100 courtesy fee."

If it was possible, and that itself was a stretch, Ontario's tone grew even more furious._ "A what? That is just _wrong_; you'll be hearing from my lawyer tonight!"_

Alberta shook his head. "No sir, this is all completely legal. Also, I now despise you, a _lot_, so I'm hitting you with another $350 fine. Just because I can. How do you like them apples?"

"He's gunna explo~ode..." Nunavut sing-sang softly, rocking gently back and forth from her toes to her heels.

"_This is outrageous!"_ Ontario screeched. _"I want to talk to whoever's your supervisor! I will have your job for this!"_

Grinning his cocky grin, the cowboy switched the phone from one hand to the other. "Sorry, my supervisor's run off with a beautiful blonde bombshell for the day. No idea when he's coming back, or if he's coming back at all." Alberta chuckled at the honesty of his own statement. "Who knows, I might have to use the $450 you owe me to buy a wedding present!"

"_I don't _owe_ you anything! And I _know_ you're lying, so let me speak with your supervisor!"_

With a roll of his eyes, Newfoundland shifted in his seat to face Manitoba, trying a different approach. "Hey, you, can you make him give me my phone back, please?"

"You think he'll stop just 'cause I tell him to?" the auburn-haired province scoffed, but when Newfoundland only continued to pout at him with sad eyes he sighed. "Okay Ralph, you've pranked Ontario good enough. Give the kid his phone back."

"I told you, my supervisor is with his chick, so you'll have to settle with taking another fine," Alberta continued, waving Manitoba off with his hand. "How does $75 sound for asking for my supervisor? Oh, but you asked twice, so…" An enraged shriek erupted from the phone's speaker.

Manitoba grit his teeth. "You've done enough; give me that phone before he has a seizure!" he raised his voice, grunting as he got back on his feet.

Meanwhile, Ontario's fuming demands continued._ "Who is that other person? A coworker? Lemme talk to him! And what's that sound?" _

"Just give me the phone already," Manitoba grumbled and reached for the phone, despite his younger brother's attempts to keep him away. "Ontario, it's just Ralph being his usual self. You're not being fined for anything," he called out.

Alberta groaned and shot his brother a frustrated glare. "Really bro? You couldn't just let me have a _little_ fun, really?" he groaned, twisting around in his attempts to keep the elder brother away.

"I'll just sit here and wait patiently for you to finish, then," Newfoundland sighed quietly and jigged his rod, to which Nunavut let out a sad little sigh of her own.

"_Whoa whoa, Alberta? And Manitoba? _And_ Newfoundland?"_ Ontario's voice betrayed his pure bewilderment. _"I insist to know exactly what is going on! Where are you?"_

Manitoba grit his teeth together and made a desperate swipe at the Alberta's hand high above his head, but he came up just short. "Doesn't matter," he growled at the phone. "Ralph's just acting like usual, making a hoser of himself when we have _other things to do_."

Alberta whipped his head around. "Hey, I resent that!" he spat. "We're not even doing anything anymore besides babysitting the rugrats! Sask's the one running around, making Matt and Ukraine fa—"

"_UKRAINE?!" _Ontario interrupted in a loud screech. It was so loud, in fact, that it stunned the younger brother into letting the phone drop to the ground, where it clattered on the ice. _"What's Ukraine doing there? What's _Canada_ doing there?"_

Spotting an opportunity, Nunavut made one last grab for the phone, and this time she snatched it up as if her life depended on it. "Ontario! Ontario! You have to come help us! Canada and Ukraine are going to fall in love, and then Prince Edward Island is going to never going to let us hear the end of it!"

"_They can't do that!" _Ontario protested. _"What about the economy? Or Russia for crying out loud! He'll pulverize us all if he hears about this!"_

Nunavut shook her head, clasping the phone tight as a panicked Alberta and Manitoba realized their blunder and tried to grab it away. "I don't know, okay? But Saskatchewan is trying really hard, and Manitoba and Alberta are being mean to Newfoundle. Please, come help us!"

"Dude, Nunny, give us the phone," Alberta grunted out as he twisted and stretched for the device, which the youngest territory kept just out of reach. Until, that is, Alberta's hand made a swipe at it which made contact and knocked the cell onto the snowy ice, skidding precariously close to the opening drilled for the fishing line.

The sound of rapid footsteps on the other end of the call was enough of a sign to prove that Nunavut's plea had the desired effect. _"As if you could keep me away, pah!" _the Ontarian quipped._ "I'm not about to leave the fate of our whole country in the hands of that woman and a band of lunatic redneck brothers!"_

"_WHAT_ did you call us?" Alberta demanded before anyone could shush him otherwise. Too late: the vibrations of his voice was all it took for the cell to traverse the last few millimetres and tip over the edge of the ice. _Ker-plunk!_

"_I'm going to find them, mark my words!" _Ontario's voice continued to shout, even as the phone sank and muffled the noise a little more with every passing second. _"You can't do this, not to our whole country! I'll find you wherever you are an—break up Mat—raine! Wait and s—I will—" _The voice faded and frizzled out, followed a moment later by the bright light of the screen as Newfoundland's cell vanished into the frigid depths.

It was Newfoundland that broke the stillness when he looked up at Alberta with a pout. "Now look what you've done," came the cold accusation and atypical arctic glare from the usually cheerful province.

The cowboy's eyebrows furrowed tightly together and he coughed nervously into his shoulder. "I, uh, guess I stepped over a couple of lines there, eh?" he asked with a small chuckle and a tender scratch to the back of his head.

"A _couple_?" Nunavut folded her arms across her chest.

Manitoba intervened on his younger brother's behalf. "Hey, cut him some slack. This is as much of an apology as I've ever heard from him." He turned to the cowboy with a frown of his own. "You know that Sask isn't going to be happy about this, right?"

"Don't remind me," Alberta muttered.

Nunavut breathed out a tired breath and sat down cross-legged on the ice, watching Newfoundland jig his rod a few times, still trying to catch whatever it was that he was fishing for.

"…But we're still not going anywhere," Alberta huffed, prompting the two young children to look at each other helplessly.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


End file.
